I Had Too
by Jcaslcgaiwd
Summary: Sherlock returns home all injured and shaking. John urges the detective to tell him what happened. (Warning: dark themes)


**A/N: I just wanted to write a hurt/comfort Sherlock fanfiction between Sherlock and John and this was the result. This is NOT a Johnlock, more like an epic bromanceHope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own this show, yet! Just kidding I never will (well most likely) ;)**

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John hears the door open and looks up, smiling up at his friend. Though once he sees his friend's face his smile immediately disappears. Sherlock had his coat wrapped closely around him, as if he was trying to sooth something that was hurting. His blue eyes were red from tears and his face was raw from crying. The doctor stands up and walks up to his friend, shock on his face.

The younger man just stands there, sniffling and shivering. John grabs his friend's arm and pulls him into bathroom. Sherlock sits on the closed toilet while the older man digs below the sink for the first aid kit. He finds it and sits in front of his friend, staring at his shaking form.

"What happened to you, mate?" Sherlock shakes his head, avoiding the ex-soldier's concerned gaze. He hides his face in his coat, shaking his head again over and over. John very gently puts his hand under Sherlock's chin, making him look into his eyes again. "It's okay, you can tell me anything, just tell me what happened to you."

Sherlock swallows hard, wiping his eyes. He looks at John one more time, sighs, then finally begins.

"I was... attacked."

"What?! By who?!" John yells, scaring the shivering man. He places a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, apologizing.

"A man that I met when I was a kid."

"Huh?" Sherlock takes a deep breath and starts again after a minute, wrapping his arms tighter around his thin body. He begins the story.

"When I was twelve years old I had been taken by a man one day while I was out riding my bike. I had been riding around the bad side of town, where mother had told me never to go, but I liked to go on adventures when I was little. Well, this man was walking around in a gray suit with a nice blue hat. He was whistling and he saw me looking at him.

"He had waved at me, motining for me to go over to him. His big green looked so friendly and caring, especially comparing them to my father's cold, blue eyes. I had gone over to him and we talked for a little bit, then something happened." Sherlock stops, trying to remain control of himself.

"He had grabbed me and thew me into his car, then he drove away. I don't remember much about where he had taken me or of how long I had been with him, but I do remember what he had done to me all too well. John, he had hurt me so bad. He had raped me over and over for weeks, loving every minute of it. After a little while the cops had came and rescued me, but he had gotten away.

"I still remember what my father had said to me when I had woken up in the hospital the next morning. He had looked me dead in the eyes, leaned forward and whispered into my ear, "Sherlock, why had were you so stupid to trust that stranger? You had deserved this, you little slut." I had never cried so hard in my entire life, even when I had been raped.

"Now it's time to tell you what just happened to me, right?" John nods, patting Sherlock's shoulder in a comforting matter. "Well I had been walking down an alleyway, thinking when suddenly a heavy cough stopped me. I had known that cough, then I looked down and saw it. The hat, his hat. His blue hat. I tried to get away, but he saw me and smiled.

"He had instantly recognised me, even after more than twenty years. I had tried to run, but he grabbed me with surprising strength. He had pinned me against the wall, so I began to scream for help because I was scared, John! Scared he was going to take me away again. He covered my mouth to keepe quiet, so I bit him. I remember how I tasted blood, but he hit me.

"I fell to the ground, so he took that as an opportunity. He had gotten on top of me." Sherlock's voice began to break once more. "He had shoved a cloth into my mouth and pinned down my arms with his legs. He laughed, teasing me. He said how much he had missed me all of these years. He said what a beautiful child I had been and the fact that I still was just as fair.

"Then he began to unzip his pants." Sherlock's voice finally broke completely and he was crying again. "I screamed for help, John, because I didn't want him to hurt me again. I didn't want him to take me away like he did before. I'm not really sure how it had happened, but he got off of me. I guess I must have gotten some sort of adrenaline rush, then pushed him off of me. I began to run away again, but he grabbed my coat. We fought for awhile and he kept winning. Then I did something very bad, John." The scared man stops and looks deep into John's eyes. He whispers the next sentence so low that the older man has to strain to hear him.

"I killed him." John gasps, staring at the detective in disbelief.

"How?"

"He was kicking me and pulled a knife on me. He had threatened to kill me, then he began to call me a name. The name name my father had always called me that still makes me angry. He had called me "a little slut." Then he threatened you, John. He threatened to come after my friends and kill them. The idea of th-this monster hurting you and doing terrible things to you didn't make me mad, but furious. I had to do it!

"I had wrapped my hand's around his neck. I began choking him. He gasped and begged me to stop, but I couldn't. He would have hurt you and I couldn't allow that to happen. Something in the back of my mind had told me to stop, but I didn't. I couldn't! Then he stopped struggling and was dead. I had just left him there in the alley and came back here to you. To home."

Tears were falling down Sherlock's pale cheeks and he waits for John to respond. All the ex-soldier does is sit there and stare at him, frozen. Finally, he speaks.

"Sherlock, I'm sorry this happened to you and this isn't your fault. I'm just happy you're okay." John pulls Sherlock into a tight embrace, comforting the man. Sherlock cries into John's shoulder, as the doctor rubs his hair to comfort him. "Ssh, ssh, ssh. It's okay, let it out." He soothes, holding his friend tighter. John begins to tend to Sherlock's bruises and cuts, humming softly to him.

He finishes and leads Sherlock to bed. The younger man falls asleep immediately and John calls Lestrade. The D. I. is concerned, but gets over it when John confirms that the detective was just fine. John hangs up, then hears Sherlock calling his name. He goes into the bedroom and the younger man is looking at him. The doctor man sits in the edge if the bed, smiling gently at his friend.

"What's wrong?" He asks kindly.

"Nothing, but I..." Sherlock stops, hesitating for a minute. "I don't want to be alone." He whispers, lowering his eyes.

"Hang in, let me go get my-"

"No, I want you to be next to me." Sherlock states, cutting his friend off. John nods, laying down next to his friend. Sherlock smiles, curling up into his blanket. John notices his eyes were still a bit red from crying, which saddened him, knowing the young man had been through too much in the last few hours. John lays there, listening to Sherlock's slow breathing. Out if all of the trama and he'll, Johns knew one thing. It was that Sherlock was his friend no matter what and he would do anything for him. For his friend.

His best friend.

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**Excuse the fluffyness, but I couldn't help it. Please review and have a fantastic day!**


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